Motivation

It doesn't take too much to get me going. Attending an Alumni Reception on Friday evening to meet my alma mater's new president was an enriching and motivating experience. I met with the Dean of my former school, shook a few hands, misbehaved with my prophytes and linesisters, caught up with former peer mentors, and partook of free food and spirits. It was a lovely way to kick off a Friday evening.

Perhaps the most poignant part of the evening , however, was when the 16th president of our university stood to address the crowd. He spoke briefly about the present atmosphere on campus, and swiftly moved into where the university was headed. He told us he needed our help. His vision for our school was about more than being a "top HBCU". We were on the road to becoming a "top school" period. Whereas in my mind, I've always found my school to be a "top school" I could see how the masses might need convincing. And, I was ready to help.

Come 2010 I'll be joining the local chapter of our alumni association, paying dues, and actively recruiting high school seniors to pursue a place that I affectionately call home. I'll be sending chunks of my paycheck to the School of Communications in efforts to assist with the new building. My small financial donation will be honored with my own personal chair in the new auditorium . That's right. When the new school is finally built, and the new auditorium finally opens, you'll find a cozy seat with my name engraved on the back of it. For a school that provided an academic scholarship, a loving support system, stimulating coursework and memories to last a lifetime - the least I can do is give something back.

I'm finding that when I'm helping others and making a difference, I'm at my best. I like that feeling. Even when spending time with Ruby, or volunteering at a local non-profit, something stirs within me and warms my heart. Spending time next year recruiting high school students, giving back and continuing to network with fellow alum will be nothing short of amazing. Plus, adding philanthropy to my life resume just sounds so "grown and sexy"...

Friends Who F- Things Up

I need some friends who do dumb shit. I need friends who f- things up every once in awhile. I need some friends who make mistakes. I know I have them, but as I reflect upon some of the dumb things I've done recently... I don't feel like their sob stories compare.

I was taking Cece to the airport the other day, and her roommate overheard a conversation we were having regarding the boy. I lightheartedly (but seriously) mentioned that I'd like for him to get hit by a bus... or something to that effect. After giving the roomie the cliffs notes version of the story she reminded me to "be careful of my words" because "words have power". Wow. If I thought I had the capabilities of determining his fate, you can bet your bottom dollar I would have done so by now. While I understand that people can 'speak things into existence' I won't believe that my deepest desires for that boy to succumb to bewildering tragedy will happen until... well... it actually happens! I don't think my words have *that* much power, basically. It is what it is.

The conversation with the roommate progressed as I reflected upon what my mother had told me just a few short months ago. She said to me "Michele, YOU are still in a relationship with him, but HE is not in a relationship with YOU. So, you can spend as much time dwelling on this as you like - but until you get to the point that you don't care anymore, you'll continue to be in this relationship. You need to reach a point that - heaven forbid - he could fall off of a cliff and it would not phase you. You gotta move on from him."

Preach, Mama!

But the roommate contended that "not caring" is "not of God" and that if I'm depending on myself to reach that very extreme point, I may never 'get over him'. Fair enough. But THEN the conversation started to sound a little bit like a lecture. And, I had to turn my brain off for a second because I wasn't a fan of being lectured by peers. I have a relationship with God and I'm fully aware of how my actions played a role in the devastation of this summer. The course I used to 'move on' is mine and mine alone. If I need to make snarky remarks every once in awhile to make myself smile then so be it. God knows where my heart is and that is all that matters. More importantly, everyone in a relationship with God knows that it helps to share an empathizing story rather than quote gospel. The most compelling stories about God's greatness come from people with a TESTimony. So, don't tell me what I'm doing wrong - tell me something YOU did wrong and how God fixed it. It's difficult to hear God's word from someone when it sounds more like a Sunday School lesson than compassionate words from a consoling friend. Anyone can quote scripture and make you feel bad for saying mean things. Who can empathize, counsel and guide without coming off as condescending? Hmmm.

On top of that, a few weeks back I confided in Denise that I felt guilty for fooling around with a platonic friend when I knew he had a girlfriend. I. Am. Sorry. But we established a level of comfort a looooong time before he met this girl and when coupled with the fact that I'm LONELY and kinda-sorta don't give a damn, what we have is a recipe for potential disaster. She chastised me too. Look people - it's not like I don't already beat myself up when I make bad choices, okay? I'm an intense, borderline OCD perfectionist who has a hard enough time letting little shit go. I'm not a sociopath. I know the difference between right and wrong. But what the hell? Cut me some slack! Pat my back! Tell me it will be okay. I don't need a smack on the wrist or religious guilt. I need some reassurance that these shortcomings are a bi-product of recent events and do not necessarily reflect on my moral character. Tell me what I already know.

What I NEED are people who understand me, grant me wiggle room, allow me to vent, allow me to cross a few boundaries, and essentially prevent me from driving to NY and punching somebody. I need people who understand what it's like. People who have their own flaws and don't live in these cookie-cutter lives with all the answers but none of the testimony. I need friends with patched-up hearts, religious conviction, and empathetic wisdom... who happen to occasionally do some really DUMB shit.

Where ARE you guys?!

Note to Self...

Stop. Checking. Social. Networking. Sites. You. Dummy.

It's no good for you. You never learn anything useful. Who cares what he's doing? Who cares how he's feeling? Your trying season has changed for the better; his pleasurable season will soon come to an end. The same way troubled waters eventually wash away, storm clouds will silently creep into view. This rollercoaster called life cannot afford us those gleeful peaks without an uphill climb. And we never endure those valleys for long, because another exciting twist or turn is just around the bend. So, chin up. Shake it off. One mindless check-in isn't such a terrible thing - but it is unnecessary. Fabulous people with fabulous lives need not check in on the lowly, selfish, slimy hoebags who twice threatened said fabulosity.

Homeboy now has a blog and twitter account. How nice for him. He constantly updates his Facebook with pleas for people to follow him, keep up with him, check in on him and basically behold the mesmerizing nothingness that summarizes his life. How sweet.

He has plans to pursue business school with his 2.0 GPA and 2+ years of non-work experience. (Getting fired from Merrill and quitting a non-profit gig hardly qualify as "experience"... am I right?) Pah! I laugh at this. I hope the coldness of New York winter consumes his scheming little soul and leaves him shuddering in the misery of his own poor decisions. I hope he encounters insurmountable heartbreak and cries himself back to his southern roots for mama to take care of him - again. I hope life starts to reject him the same way he rejected me. I hope he gets hit by a bus. I want the universe to abort him.

It probably doesn't help that I checked his f-ing page after 6 flimsy hours of sleep followed by running 3 miles and almost hurling this morning... It doesn't help that I checked on him to delay the voluminous workload that's already beginning to wear me down. Now I can't even concentrate.

I'm cranky. But I'm also sincere. My anger has subsided but not completely dissipated. Linda isn't sure this feeling will ever go away, either. I hope she's wrong. Perhaps small glimpses into his self-proclaimed "happy life" will always trigger a tiny bit of anger or resentment. But that doesn't mean I have to fuel it. I'm actually fine. So, mosey along now. Nothing to see here.

Dear Boss

Dear Boss,

When we go over things in meetings - do you listen to me? When I clearly lay out the parameters of a project, illustrating costs, profit margins, investments and revenue totals - do you camp out in Lala Land until my lips stop moving?

For the past 6 weeks I have been working diligently on a project that has produced (aside from results) obstacles, challenges, setbacks, creative discrepancies, email floods, questions, comments, and maybe even a few gray hairs. Now that it's time to pull the trigger and start making deposits and other financial commitments to BACK said project, I'm confronted with even more obstacles, challenges, questions, comments and concerns.

No, sir.

I can not and will not be stressed beyond my current stress level, which is already high. I thought I had learned to relax in the workplace as a bi-product of the summer's events. Evidently I'm hardheaded. But as I sit here, typing, breathing deeply and recounting some of Linda's advice from my lunch hour, I have reached this conclusion: I cannot be consumed by nit picky trivialities that you overlooked the first three times I presented this information to you.

The reasoning behind this decision is that I have the tendency to wear my emotions on my sleeve. When I'm tired or stressed by work, the whole world can tell. I don't like that. I pressure myself to at least present the illusion that everything is okay... from 9 am - 6 pm at a bare minimum. When I go home, or find myself in the presence of friends, I'm allowed to break down and let it all out. But at work? I keep it professional. Well, to the best of my ability, which is trying when my workload is increased exponentially during the busiest and most pressure-filled quarter of the year.

Such is life.

Linda was helpful in allowing me to see that I can "have it all together" and still succumb to daily stressors in the workplace. My innate reactions are within reason and understandable, particularly considering what's at stake and the expectations of me. Anyone would be on edge. And, while that makes 100% sense, it doesn't completely set my mind at ease. When a person sets high standards for herself, and typically exceeds even her own expectations... what do you have? A recipe for success... or perhaps a catastrophe.

In the end, I'm confident I will close out 2009 on top as far as my career is concerned. In the meantime, however, I'm going to need my boss to pay closer attention when I explain things. It's really as simple as that.